Message Received
by LadyQuartz24601
Summary: 1st person/reader insert, female narrator. Narrator is a hunter who is beaten up by demons trying to deliver a message to the King of Hell. A little action in the beginning, fluff, and then smutty action at the end ;) Oneshot. (Bobby lives! mentioned)


**Suffice to say, I don't own SPN, nor am I making any money off this. If I were, Samandriel would be in my bed, and I'd be living in a historic colonial instead of in a worn out place with four roommates.**

 **Message Received**

I fumbled my key into the lock and staggered into my apartment. I'd been away from home for over a week, helping the Winchesters with a hunt. A week away from home was way too long—I was supposed to be retired, after all.

My parents had raised me to be a hunter, and I'd happily planned to spend my entire life on the road. I'd gone to college and majored in Folk Literature and Religious Studies—both majors that I figured would help my parents and me hunt. Last year my mom had fallen under a siren's spell and had murdered my dad. It was tragic, of course, and my mom had committed suicide shortly after realizing what she'd done.

It was at that point that I announced my retirement. I got an apartment, found a job as an office assistant at the police station, and let all my hunting contacts know that I was at their disposal if they ever needed research done. Working for the police was hugely beneficial when it came to obtaining … _protected_ … information and warning whichever of my friends were on the FBI's Most Wanted list _this_ week, so I was happily useful to those who relied on me.

Nine days ago Sam and Dean had shown up on my doorstep with a set of characteristics they needed to pair with a monster. Within the hour I'd identified their pest as a family of vengeful pixies. Calming the pixies down would require a complicated spell, so I'd agreed to go with Sam and Dean to perform it. Unfortunately for me, an archaic ritual turned into a confrontation with the police and the Winchesters and me running from the authorities while trying to stop a rogue hunter from killing humans who looked like his ex-girlfriend. We apprehended the guy—he died when a nest of vampires he'd pissed off caught up to us—and the situation between the police and the Winchesters was smoothed over with some diplomatic bullshitting by Bobby Singer and me.

That still wasn't the end of the story. Sam, Dean, and I had gotten back to the motel room to find that one of the police officers who'd been trying to kill us was actually a demon determined to take us hostage and then kill us to send a message to the King of Hell himself. There'd been a violent fight during which I was thrown across a room, landed on a mirror Sam had just broken over the demon's head, and had huge shards embedded in my back, and then I was dragged out of the room as a hostage by my ankle, which had already gotten sprained when I misplaced a kick and hit a hipbone instead of a stomach.

By the time Sam and Dean were able to exorcise the son of a bitch, he'd almost gotten me across the street to where his cronies were waiting for him.

After the demons were gone, Dean had picked the glass shards out of my back the best he could and had sewn the muscle and skin back up. He helped me out to Baby, drove me the four hours back to my place, and helped me to the door. I'd insisted I could take care of myself from there. What type of hunter would I be if I couldn't?

But now, here I was, slumped over the arm of my sofa so my injuries, which were still oozing blood wouldn't rub against the rough fabric of the slipcover.

I was exhausted. I hadn't showered in two days—or was it three now? I wanted to take a bath, but I'd probably fall asleep and drown. I wanted to go find some pain meds, but that required moving. Getting to my bed also required moving, and I had little confidence in my broken body to get me where I needed to go without incident. Mentally shrugging, I closed my eyes and prepared to fall into a fitful sleep on the sofa.

I'd just drifted off when I jolted awake. Something was moving around my kitchen!

I scolded myself mentally. I had demon traps hidden throughout my house, and there were permanent salt lines in front of every door and window and around the perimeter of each room. I had wards that allowed in only specific angels—Castiel, Gabriel, Balthazar. Clearly whoever was in my apartment was there because I let him be there. If it wasn't a friend, it was a thief or something, and those I could handle. Well, I could handle when I wasn't sleep deprived and seriously injured.

"How are you, pet?" A faint Scottish accent tinged the husky voice coming from the hall to my right. The footsteps carefully edged around the devil's trap painted on the bottom of my living room area rug, and then Crowley had entered my living room fully. I knew the moment he spotted me because he let out a harsh gasp. "What the hell happened to you?"

I tilted my head slightly and opened my eyes to look at him. He looked as delicious as ever in his fine suit and polished shoes, with not even a hair out of place.

Normally he was the fuel of my sexiest fantasies, but my body was too exhausted and too pained to even consider anything sexual at the moment. Finally registering that he'd asked me a question, I responded, "A couple demons wanted to use me to send you a message. Don't know what message, though, so no need to ask."

Crowley released a growl from his throat. "I already know what message."

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" I mumbled. "It's the least you can do, since I got beat up for you."

Crowley moved to the couch. "Tell you in a bit, pet. Right now, my concern is you. Your shirt is all bloody." He helped me sit up and removed my blood-soaked shirt gingerly. He barely contained a groan at one point, and his fingertips trailed down my spine. I shivered; okay, maybe my body _wasn't_ too exhausted to get turned on after all. "Who stitched you up, luv? A drop out from teddy bear med school?" His voice was a protective grumble.

"Dean."

Crowley scoffed. "Judging from the beginnings of infection in the wounds, I'm guessing he didn't sanitize the needle and thread he—Is that glass in your back?!" A little pressure was removed as Crowley magically pulled out the rest of the mirror shards. The flat of his hand pressed over first one gash then another and another, and I cried out in pain before the areas were completely healed and I felt miraculous relief.

I happily shifted to sit normally on the couch. "Thanks, Crowley. You're the best!"

The handsome demon next to me chuckled. "Only to you, pet. You don't tell hunters what I'm up to or where to find me, and you let me visit whenever I want—hell, you even keep a bottle of Craig on hand so I can have a drink while you do my research for me. Your loyalty must be rewarded." He lifted his glass of scotch to his lips, and I finally connected the dots; the noise in my kitchen had been him helping himself to a drink. He placed his glass down again and gently pulled my feet across his lap so I could stretch out.

I hissed when the movement caused my ankle to twinge.

Crowley passed me his glass of scotch for me to have a sip while he rolled up my pant leg and pulled off my sock. "Anywhere else you're injured that you forgot to tell me about?" He gave me a mock glare.

I shook my head and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that hung on the closet door. I started laughing. There I was, sitting on the couch with a demon, half sprawled across his lap, in just my bra and my jeans pushed up to my knees wearing a sock on only one foot.

Crowley closed his warm hand around my injured ankle. "What's so funny? Hold still so I can make sure this sprain heals properly."

"I look ridiculous!" I chuckled.

"You look ravishingly disheveled," Crowley corrected dryly. "Now come with me; I'm not done looking after you yet." The King of Hell scooped me up and carried me to the bathroom, successfully avoiding the three demon traps and two booby-traps that littered the path between the living room and the bathroom.

I raised my eyebrows. "I think you spend too much time here; you're navigating my devices as well as I do, and you have to worry about more than twice as many."

Crowley shrugged and set me down in the shower, climbing in behind me himself. He turned on the hot water with one hand and snapped his fingers to undress me completely while his other arm maintained a grip around my waist—which was the only thing keeping me upright at the moment, if I'm being completely honest. "Can't have my exhausted, loyal little pet hurting herself in the shower after I just put all that effort into healing her," he drawled.

"I'm not so tired I would hurt myself," I snapped in defiance as Crowley began to wash my hair. "And your suit is going to be ruined. It's already soaked." Him in the shower with me was making me soaked, too, and not just from the hot water.

Crowley rinsed my hair, spun me around so my whole body had been rinsed off by the spray of the shower, and then flipped off the faucet. He lifted me out of the shower and snapped his fingers again. Instantly I was in my pajamas, and his suit was dry. He scooped me into his arms again and brought me to bed.

I snuggled into the quilt, shivering slightly. Crowley sat on the bed next to me, and I looked up at him. "I understand loyalty, but why are you being this attentive?"

Crowley stroked my hair. "You could have died because someone was using you to get to me. As much as people prefer to believe demons don't love, we do. And that's the message those bastards were trying to deliver—don't fall in love with a human; it makes you weak."

I blinked in astonishment. Was he saying what I thought—what I hoped—he was saying? Was he in love with me?

Crowley smiled. "Yes. I'm in love with you, pet. You're so important to me. That's why I'm here so often, because I want to protect you." He dropped a kiss to the crown of my head.

I smiled, but my happiness faltered momentarily as it occurred to me that we might have very different interpretations of love. What if he wanted to keep sleeping with women and demons besides me? What if he was calling me "pet" because he wanted me to literally be a kept pet?! After all, I thought, we're talking about the King of Hell, here.

Crowley smiled at the thoughts racing through my head. "I only want you. Haven't had anyone else since I met you two years ago. You're all mine, but I'm also all yours. And I could call you 'luv' instead, if that makes you more comfortable, my beautiful queen."

I giggled and snuggled into his side. "Do you want to spend the night?"

Crowley snapped his fingers and he was in sweatpants and a t-shirt. "Wild hellhounds couldn't drag me away, luv."

* * *

When I awoke the next morning, I was alone in bed. I didn't think anything of it at first, but as the prior evening came back to me, I furrowed my brow. I remembered Crowley climbing into bed with me, cradling me against his chest as I fell asleep, and murmuring words of praise and love into my hair. I'd woken twice during the night, and both times Crowley had been sleeping peacefully with his arms wrapped around me. So where was he now?

"He's the one who declared love," I reasoned as I brushed my teeth and padded into the kitchen, "so I didn't scare him off." I moved into the living room, looking for the suit-wearing demon. "And it's not like he manipulated me for sex, since he didn't get any." He wasn't anywhere in the small apartment, and I furrowed my brow. "Why would he have left?" I was trying hard not to get upset, but it wasn't quite working.

With a sigh, I showered properly, shaving my legs and armpits for the first time in several days. I sighed in relief as I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and rubbed lotion into my skin and put on fresh deodorant.

I walked back into my bedroom. "Crowley?" I called hopefully in case he'd come back while I was in the shower. There was no reply, and I dropped my towel and started getting dressed. I'd pulled on lace panties and bra and was standing in front of my closet looking for a clean pair of jeans when the door opened.

"Now this is a view I could come home to everyday," Crowley purred, crossing the room in two strides and wrapping his arms around me. He buried his face in my neck, nibbling my shoulder. "Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up, luv."

I turned in his arms, innocent expression on my face. "Weren't you? I didn't notice."

This was met with a chuckle. "Nice try," Crowley tapped my forehead. "I didn't mean to be gone so long. I was going to make you breakfast in bed, but you were out of groceries, so I had to pop over to Paris to bring back fresh baked goods for my queen instead of cooking. I didn't think you'd wake up so early."

We made our way to the kitchen, and I immediately began devouring all the delicious Parisian goodies he'd brought back for me. "Y'know," I teased as I swallowed the last of a croissant, "you could have just taken me to Paris for breakfast."

"It's not breakfast-time over there anymore. And what part of breakfast in bed is hard for you to understand?"

I grinned impishly. "The part where we're eating in my crappy little kitchen."

Crowley walked behind me and ran his hands across my shoulders and down my arms. I gave a little moan and squirmed in my seat, except I was no longer in a seat, I was on a lavish bed with the food on a tray at my side. "There, now we're in _my_ bed," Crowley chuckled. "Anyways, the point of breakfast in bed was to prevent you from putting on clothes; Paris would have required you getting dressed, and—" he unfastened my bra and tugged it off, flinging it across the room, "—you're really just about as dressed right now as I intend to let you be for the next 48 hours, at least!"

A shiver ran through my body. "Promises, promises," I winked.

Crowley was on me in a flash. He pushed me back on the bed and hovered above me, leaning his weight on his forearms on either side of my head. His lips slanted over mine in a kiss that started forceful then mellowed sweetly. He ground his hips into mine, brushing his bulge over my lace-clad crotch. I whimpered, and Crowley sucked the skin under my ear. "You should know better than to tempt the King of Hell, darling."

I moaned and clutched the back of his suit coat, curling my legs around his waist in neediness as his lips traveled to one of my nipples, then the other. His lips blazed a trail back to mine, and I arched into him. "Crowley," I moaned.

He growled in response. "Say it again!" He commanded as he snapped his fingers and we were both fully naked.

His skin was impossibly hot against mine, his hair just coarse enough to cause nerves all over my body to tingle. I crushed him into me, just wanting to savor the feel of his skin against mine. "Crowley," I repeated, trailing my lips across his shoulder.

"Most beautiful sound I ever heard," Crowley groaned into my ear. His hands slid down my body, caressing in all the right places. His hands settled on my hips in a bruising grasp.

I dug my fingernails into his back, grinning up at him when he hissed. He was between my legs, but still not inside me easing my dripping ache. "Mine." I met his eyes. "You're mine, Crowley—my King." I'd always been a bit possessive.

Apparently Crowley was, too, because he pounded into me, filling me completely with a roar that matched my pleasured shriek. "My queen," Crowley moaned, just enjoying the feeling of filling me up. He rolled his hips against mine, and I gasped. "My love." Crowley purred into my neck.

I'd never had a lover fit me so perfectly, and I never wanted this feeling to end. I purposely fluttered my inner walls around him. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed into me harder, further.

"My darling," Crowley gently retreated from my body then thrust into me again. I rolled my hips against his. "My heart," we repeated our actions. "My soul, my desire, my love, my goddess, my queen, my dear one," we had established a rhythm already as if we'd been making love our whole lives.

"Mhmm," I moaned, kissing my lover frantically. "Crowley!" He gazed deep into my eyes, and I could almost feel him stroking the pleasure center of my brain. I definitely felt his finger circling my clit. My entire body clamped down on Crowley before I shattered.

Crowley followed me over the edge a millisecond later. "I love you," he murmured into my shoulder. He moved to slide out of me, but I wrapped my arms around him; I enjoyed his weight on top of me and—was he already getting hard again?

"Did you think I made the deal _only_ for the extra inches?" He waggled his eyebrows and fixed me with a sinful leer.

I shook my head, laughing quietly. "You're incorrigible. And you ruined the moment." I allowed him to kiss the pout off my lips.

"I didn't realize there was a moment to ruin," Crowley teased, nibbling my ear lobe and dragging his hand to my breast. "But I'm pretty sure we can recreate it, luv."

I turned my head in a pretend huff, thereby giving him further access to my neck. "Nope! Too late, Crowley. I was going to tell you I love you, too, but you're just going to have to wait!"

Crowley rocked his hips, reminding me that his hard member was still in my slick heat. "Very well, my queen. The anticipation of hearing those words is killing me, but I think I can find some way for us to occupy our time until there's another moment."


End file.
